6 comments/ 45262 views/ 14 favorites Rick Tells Pete By: Ford2020 Peter draws a breath and lets it go, adjusts the desk lamp, fidgets a bit, and then reads the scene for the third time; and he still cannot recall a single thing about Othello. He closes the book and rubs his neck, then once again steals a sideways glance across the shadowy room at the clock on the nightstand. His study partner is almost twenty minutes late, and young Pete is beginning to wonder if this guy is going to show at all. Maybe he should try calling him. After all, he is new in town and uncommonly shy. Maybe the kid took a wrong way turn on his way over, got himself lost, and is now out there driving around in endless circles, afraid to call his cute new friend from English Lit and ask for directions because he doesn't want to look stupid. Pete sighs. He knows this explanation is complete crap because Jeremy lives only a few blocks away and once even dropped Pete off on his way home. There is no getting around the fact he really likes this boy. If asked, Pete would be hard-pressed to explain exactly why. Though Jeremy has a certain sweetness about him and a not unappealing look—tall and rangy with a ready smile and a mop of sandy hair falling in his face—he will never turn heads. Pete knows a dozen guys who are better looking, sexier, more athletic. The fact is he's already messed around with some of those guys. But that misses the point. He is attracted to Jeremy precisely because he is not anything like them. The boy is now more than twenty minutes late. For Pete what had been worry is now quickly turning into despair. He reminds himself that this was only s study date, not a real one, but he can't shake the feeling of being stood up. It took him weeks to work up the courage to ask Jeremy for this much. How will he ever be able to ask for anything more? "Have you seen my phone?" asks the tall blonde girl as she comes bursting through the door. "I left it on the coffee table only a minute ago and now it's gone. I know people in this house steal my stuff." "Dang it, Jan! What's the matter with you?" snaps Pete jumping to his feet. "How many times have I told you to knock before coming in? I could've been naked in here for all you know. And no, dangit, I didn't take you stupid old phone." "What's bugging you?" The girl, Pete's middle sister, stands framed in the light from the hallway. "OK, OK. I'll be sure to knock next time—happy now? What's the big deal? It's not like I haven't seen you in the shower before." As she backs away and begins to pull the door shut behind her, something she said triggers a single terrifying image in Pete's mind and he lunges for the door. His poor sister barely has time to scramble out of the way, yelling after him as he shoots past her and makes for the turn down the staircase. "Sorry!" he shouts over his shoulder as he bounds down the stairs, tears through the house and bolts out the back door. The growing murk of evening aided by the shadowy overhang of several large trees obscures just about everything in the back yard, and it takes a moment for Pete's eyes to adjust to gloom. But even before he sees it he know it's there, parked in the driveway in front of the creaky old garage; and, sure enough, there sits Jeremy's small car. Pete glances up and then without hesitation begins climbing the line of wooden steps on the side of the garage that lead to the small efficiency apartment situated on top. At the landing he pauses just long enough to suck in his breath, then with a look of grim determination he pushes through the door. He zeroes in on the old sofa bed at the center of the room—nothing there—and then begins to scan around the dimly-lit, elongated space until his focus settles on the narrow enclosed kitchen area on the far side. And there he finds them: fair-haired Jeremy and his older brother Rick, locked together in a clenched embrace. Rick, already shirtless and shoeless, his muscled form taut and dominating, poised and ready to strike. Pete finds his voice. "Oh, God, I knew it! It was you . . . all along!" The two split apart as an audible gasp fills he room. Jeremy, in shock, mortified, stumbles around the counter to face Pete. Then, in a panic, he makes a break for the door as his friend tries to stop him. "No, Jeremy, stop!" Pete attempts to wrap his arms around the boy. "I didn't mean you." But the desperate attempt to stop him backfires when Jeremy snatches up featherweight Pete by the shoulders and slams him to the floor, grazing the boy's head on the edge of the door. As Pete lies still, momentarily dazed, the bigger boy leaps over him and makes his escape through the door. He is down the stairs and into his vehicle in seconds. As Pete struggles to sit up, he can hear the car being fired up, revved and gunned, its tires screeching wildly in the street below. Pete attempts to stand up, but grabs his head and sinks back to the floor amid a kaleidoscope of swirling colors and dancing lights, and then an even brighter flash of pain sends the whole room spinning. Moments later he feels himself being lifted to his feet by his big brother who guides him over to the well-worn sofa and sits him down. While the light show has begun to fade away, the ache in Pete's head is showing no signs of abating, so he boy drops his head to his knees and buries his face in the crook of his arm. "What say there, buddy boy? How's that head of yours doing?" "How do you think it's doing?" Rick bends over and examines a spot on the top of Pete's head. "Oh, yeah, you've got a real beauty coming up here. Bet it hurts. Sit tight. I'll dig you up some aspirin and something to wash it down with." Moments later Rick reappears and presses two pills into his young brother's hand and then sets a can of beer in front of him. Pete stares at him incredulously. "You're giving me beer?" "Best thing I know for an aching head. Trust me. And besides, you can use the can to ice down that bump." Pete takes a few sips of the beer, and to his amazement he does start to feel oddly better—if no less angry. "You really are pond scum, Rick—you know that? Why are you doing this to me?" Rick shakes his head and has a good chuckle as he strolls back to the refrigerator to retrieve a beer for himself. With beer in hand he settles into a small leather recliner next to the sofa. "To you, Petey boy? You got it all wrong, bro. You see, the idea was to stick it to your little pal—not you." "Shut up, Rick!" says Pete incensed. "Why should I believe a word you say when you've done this exact same thing before." Rick's cool vanishes in a snort of disgust. "That again? Let me ask you something, bro: How long are you gonna beat that drum? I've told you before I didn't know the little punk was your boyfriend. How was I supposed to know? You didn't tell me. You don't bother to tell me much of anything anymore." "I don't trust you. You're up to something. And besides, why should I when I know you've got eyes and ears all over this town . . . even at my school. I don't know how, but you found out about me and John, just like you found out I like Jeremy. And you set out to ruin it for me both times." "That is just about the wildest thing I've ever heard. Can you spell paranoid, little brother?" asks Rick, regarding his younger sibling with just the hint of a smile behind his scruffy mustache. "It's not a good look on you, Pete. Why would I give a flying fuck who you're diddling these days? But, listen, if you really want to know, here's how it all went down that night: I was out celebrating. You might recall I had a big part in our win over Arizona that year. Anyway, a bunch of us headed downtown after the game to have a good time." "I bet I know what that means." "Do you, Sister Mary Tightass? OK, sure, I knocked back a few—so what? Like I said, the whole point of the evening was to have a good time. Do you even remember what it's like to have a good time? I bet you don't. Anyway, we wound up at the bar in the bowling alley. For some reason that place was really hopping. On the way back from the john, I got completely turned around and ended up in the arcade. Even that was crowded. I was making my way back to the bar when I came across this kid really going to town on one of the video games. I mean, he was really throwing his whole body into it. He had great technique so I stopped to watch, just for a sec. I was watching him, he started watching me—really giving me the eye, if you know what I mean. The next thing I know we're talking. Connecting. I say to him, 'Why don't you come by my place later for a beer?' So he did. One thing led to another. Bing, bang, boom. End of story." "Yeah, the end," says Pete dejectedly. "He wouldn't so much as return my calls after that." "Are you really into little boys like that? Seriously, dude, don't you get bored?" "So where's your girlfriend, Rick? It's Friday night. Don't you usually spend your weekends with her?" Rick smiles coyly, takes a sip of his beer and kicks back on the recliner. Not only is he in no hurry to reply to Pete, he seems to genuinely enjoy the game of cat-and-mouse that is slowly unfolding between them. Pete, on the other hand, is a bundle of nerves and his impatience is showing. After making him wait, Rick glances over at him and flashes a wolf's grin. "Oh, I don't know, Petey boy. Didn't bother to call her." "Didn't she call you?" "Told her I was busy with my buds. Took the night off. Heck, I'm entitled to a night off every once in a while—dontcha think? You know, it's like steak. You can really dig steak—and, man, I do love me a nice hot juicy prime rib—but if you have it every night, you're liable to get bored with it. That's the way it is with me. I'm a real steak lover, one of the best around, but every now and then I get a taste for something different. Sometimes, I even get a taste for a little chicken on the side." "You really are a slime bag, Rick." Rick has a hearty laugh as the disgusted frown on Pete's face. "No, dude, just a little more honest than most. And come to think of it, that's what happened that night at the bowling alley. Yeah, I recall it now: It was just like tonight: all of a sudden I had a yen for chicken." Pete clams up, but not before snatching up his beer and downing a big swig of it. As he sits there on the sofa glumly avoiding the smug gaze of his brother, he can feel his initial anger receding, and being replaced with other, more confused feelings. Rick is the oldest of six children in the Morse household and the first to go to college. He is also the most impulsive and hotheaded of the lot, and the one most likely to land in trouble. Considering his record, his dad Mike, a prominent architect, had to pull a lot of strings to get Rick admitted to the local university, though the young man's outstanding record on his high school varsity football squad didn't exactly hurt either. Pete has always looked up to his big brother and wishes he could be more like him. Rick seems to have it all, good looks and an athletic body, popularity, and enough charm to seemingly get just about anything he wants. Pete has never been like that, and not just because he's gay. The boy can never bring himself to use people in the callous way that Rick does, nor ignore the consequences of his actions. If Rick has a vulnerability, Pete has yet to figure out what it is. "Just tell me this, Rick: why them? They're not even your type." "So now I have a type?" scoffs Rick. "Don't pretend you don't know what I mean. You don't look at anyone, boy or girl, unless they look like they've just stepped out of a sports car ad. The only reason you went after Jeremy was to get back at me. So now that you've had your fun, why not just leave him alone?" "What do you want, little brother?" "Jeremy. Can't you just back off and let me have him?" "Dammit, bro, now see, there's your problem right there. You need to stop begging and learn how to fight for what you want. You've been so protected that you don't know what it means to go after what you want. If that scared little rabbit that just ran out of here is what you want, then go get him. And keep him. And don't ask anybody's permission." "How do I do that?" asks Pete meekly. "It's not rocket science," says Rick, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice. "But if you really want to know, I'll teach you." Rick kicks back again, reclining in the chair and propping he feet upon the scuffed up little locker that serves as a coffee table. "But before we get into that, tell me about yourself, buddy boy. It's been a long time since you've come up here just to visit your ol' bro. You used to hang out here all the time. What happened? Did you suddenly get busy or something?" "Well, yeah," says Pete still avoiding his brother's probing gaze. "Mostly with school stuff. Since this is my senior year, I've been taking a bunch of electives, including some college prep classes Dad signed me up for. He says it'll look good on my application." Yuck, nerd stuff. Sounds like Dad. Listen, if you want a social life, you're gonna have to give up some of that. Get out of the house, find some time for yourself. Speaking of house, how are you surviving life with Dad's new family—or, as I like to call them, Momma Alice and the Three Wicked Stepsisters?" "It's not so bad once you get used to it," says Pete giggling at the joke. "You should give them a chance, Rick. They're always asking about you. Bobby too. He misses having his big brother around." "Yeah, well, I miss Bob-o too. But the rest of that brood is a real problem for me, little brother. I can't stand a house full of screeching females, and that particular bunch is just about the worst I've ever seen. The way they fight, you're likely lose an eye or a limb if you came between them. Pete laughs out loud in spite of himself. "It can get pretty crazy in there sometimes." "What I don't get," says Rick, "is how a good-looking dude like our dad got roped into that blonde disaster. I know for a fact that a couple of my girlfriends would've gone for him in a heartbeat. Anyway, if you or Bob-o ever feel like escaping the henhouse, then just climb up here to the ol' treehouse. You can hang out with me as long as you like." Rick polishes off his beer and climbs to his feet. "Seriously, man," he says, resting a hand on Pete's shoulder, "I'm glad you're here. I'm going for another. What about you? Ready for round two?" "Jeez, Rick, I'm barely half-way through this one!" "Drink up, slowpoke." His headache all but forgotten, Pete chuckles as he watches his big brother trot back to the fridge in his bare feet. San his shirt the college man easily impresses with his broad muscular shoulders, well-defined pecs, and generally powerful build, the result of years of work in the gym and on the football field. Even though all three boys inherited their father's dark good looks—hazel eyes, black curly hair, olive complexion—none shows it to such fine effect as Rick. His years of play in the sun have left him with a permanent bronze tan, a skin tone so dark that it would be easy to mistake him for Latino. His looks have brought him a lot of attention, an advantage Rick has not been shy in making use of, in securing girls . . . and the occasional guy. "Say, kid, I guess you recall who gave you your first taste of beer." Pete giggles, a bit giddy. "It was you, you big moron." "Damn right—and don't go forgetting it. Do you recall the occasion?" "Yeah, it was one of those football games you took me to." "Yeah, but which one?" Pete tries to remember, but considering how long ago it was and the fact he is now enjoying a nice beer-induced buzz, he finally shrugs and gives up. Rick, still on his feet, flashes him a strong look of disapproval. "How do you forget the biggest fucking game we had that year? It was the end of the season. Oklahoma State came down and kicked our asses 45 to 21, thanks mostly to the fact I had to sit that one out with a sore ankle. I took you along since I couldn't play, and we had great seats right down on the fifty-yard line. I snuck you a taste of my beer, and then had to buy you your own can because you liked it so much." "I remember. It was fun." "Damned right. We always had fun," insists Rick, watching his brother out of the corner of his eye. "I gave you your first taste of beer. Do you recall who gave me my first taste of chicken?" Pete snatches up his beer and hastily downs the last of it before getting to his feet. "Wow, I can't believe how late it is. I really have to go now." He takes only a few steps in the direction of the door before stumbling, his head suddenly spinning again. His brother firmly takes his arm. "You're not going anywhere. You take a header down those steps and Dad'll have my hide for it." "Maybe you're right," says Pete, who pauses where he is. "Jeez, I can't believe how lightheaded I am." He rubs his head, trying hard to clear the cobwebs out of his brain. "I recall another time you were lightheaded—though feeling no pain might be a better way to put it. Don't tell me you've forgotten that. It was that exact same night." Rick lets go of Pete's arm, but continues to hover very close to him. Pete is steadier on his feet now, but doesn't move as he listens to Rick reminisce as he slowly walks in a circle around his younger brother. "As I recall, it was pretty late by the time we got in from the game. By then, you'd finished one whole beer and most of another; and, let's face it, you were pretty far gone. A cheap drunk if I ever saw one. Remember that? I do. I remember everything. You kept babbling on. You begged me not to send you up to the house, because, as you put it, we were having so much fun and you wanted to bunk down up here with me. So, being the big ol' softie that I am—as well as considering the hell I would've caught if Dad had seen you in that state—I said sure, kid, why not, you can stay. I let out the pullout bed and we snuggled in there until you fell asleep. Never could say no to you, buddy boy." It is as if Rick's quiet steady tone is exerting a kind of hold over Pete, who continues to stand still and listen. Rick finally comes to a stop and stands just behind Pete's left shoulder. He is now so close that Pete can feel his brother's warm moist breath collecting in his ear and along the nape of his neck as Rick goes on talking. "I was out like a light the second my head hit the pillow, and so were you—or so I thought. But you weren't asleep, were you, Petey boy? You weren't asleep at all." Rick slips his arms around Pete's waist and settles the boy back into the warm cavity of his body. Pete closes his eyes and lets it happen, releasing a great long sigh. "When I woke up a little while later, damn, but I couldn't figure what was going on. I discovered you down under the covers, chowing down on my joint like it was the biggest, sweetest stick of candy you ever had. I still can't figure out how you managed to get my boxers down my legs without me feeling a goddamn thing!" Rick turns his brother around. Looking anxious, Pete avoids his gaze, but Rick watches him intently as he trails his big hands down the length of the youthful torso, grasps the edge's of the kid's t-shirt, and pulls it off over his head. Once this happens Pete stops being so passive. He steps closer to his brother and touches the bold tattoos Rick has imprinted on his biceps, then draws his fingers across the dusting of fine black hair that covers Rick's pecs and abs. For his part Rick seems perfectly content to let this process unfold, watching as the boy explores every contour of his upper torso, and satisfied for now to just press on with his recollection. "I have a confession for you, Pete. That was my first time giving it up to a cocksucker—not that I hadn't had plenty of chances before, mind you. But it was just the idea of my own little bro doing it that got to me. But answer me this: were you even wasted that night, or not?" Rick Tells Pete "Totally," says Pete who is suddenly tickled at the memory and begins laughing, even as his brother reaches down and starts fumbling with the button on his jeans. "It was the beer that gave me the courage to do that." "Go on and have a good laugh, but I'm telling you I had the shock of my life waiting for me when I lifted the sheets and saw you there, naked as a jaybird, all curled up, and sucking away like a baby on a tit." "Let me do it," says Pete who takes over unbuckling his own jeans because Rick is getting nowhere with it. Once undone, however, the big guy takes over and slides the jeans off, leaving his slender brother standing there in nothing but his underwear. "It took me a while to wrap my head around the fact that I was actually in bed with a flaming cocksucker—and he was none other than my very own bro, Sweet Pete himself!" "You didn't seem so shocked to me." "Why? Because I didn't stop you?" says Rick, once again with a sly smile. "Seriously, dude, try putting yourself in my shoes, and tell me you wouldn't have been blown away by the situation. But the thing is I found myself getting into it right away. Maybe because it was you—quiet, levelheaded little Pete, never making any waves, never taking any chances—and you were really going for it, man. You were staking your claim and going for broke. Heck, I had to admire you for that. And then I realized something else: It was really turning me on." Pete begins to remove his briefs, but Rick stops him. "Not yet." He indicates his own jeans instead. "These first." In that the top button of Rick's jeans has already been undone, Pete finds it easy to do the rest, especially since Rick's old faded jeans are much looser than his own. The boy quickly pushes them down, and in doing so brushes up against the thick lump filling out his brother's boxer briefs. Pete presses his fingers over it inside its fabric cover, feeling its warmth. Despite its impressive size, Pete is keenly aware that Rick is only half-hard. Rick reciprocates by peeling away the thin covering of Pete's briefs, revealing a young cock so stiff and lively it bounces off the boy's stomach. Pete blushes in embarrassment, ashamed to appear so eager in front of his ever-so-cool big brother. "Well now, look what I found," croons Rick, taking the smooth firm dick in hand, and massaging it between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a deep groan from the anxious youth. "Seems like you missed your ol' bro after all." Rick releases the cock and places his big rough hands on Pete's shoulders. Then with a slight downward pressure he communicates his wishes to Pete who drops to his knees in front of his college brother's crotch. It is perhaps a ritual remembered from the past because Pete seems to understand perfectly what is expected of him. The boy strips away the gray boxer briefs, and then clasping the firm muscular contour of Rick's butt, he pulls his brother closer, opens wide and engulfs the entire maroon-colored head with his mouth. Within seconds the whole length of the thick-veined monster has hardened and is leaking like a sieve under the expert ministrations of Pete's darting tongue. It is now Rick's turn to groan deeply as he realizes that his younger brother has undergone some major changes in the year since he last did this. "Oh, fuck, bro . . . that's good. Where'd you learn to give head like this?" Pete glances up and beams a smile of satisfaction to his brother, thrilled that he has both surprised Rick and drawn his admiration. He makes no attempt, however, to answer him. This is a moment for Pete to savor, one of the rare times he has managed to titillate and baffle Rick, who seems to pride himself on knowing everything. Thus encouraged, Pete goes further, opening up his throat and allowing his big brother's manly weapon to slide even further down his gullet. "Fucking shit," mumbles Rick as waves of raw pleasure ricochet through his body like a wildfire, radiating to the farthest extremes of his being. All too soon he feels that familiar tightening in his groin that signals the approaching release, coming much too fast. Reluctantly he yanks his shaft out of the silken sheath of his little brother's throat. The young man lifts the slender form of his brother to his feet and crushes him in a deep kiss. Still agape from the withdrawal, Pete shrinks under the power of Rick's iron grip, but the heat of the embrace swiftly gets to him and he starts ardently returning the kiss. He finds himself enjoying the roughness of it, the scraggly growth around Rick's mouth that prickles his lips, the goatee that scrapes his chin, the musky, manly odor that assaults his nose and intoxicates him like wine. "Oh please, Rick, don't stop," gasps Pete when he feels Rick's mouth pulling away from his. But Rick has no intention of stopping as he shows when he slides his hands down the length of Pete's back and into the cleft of his ass. Reaching underneath, he inserts a lone finger into the quivering hole, causing Pete to groan loudly and jump. Rick then abruptly grabs the boy by the shoulders and shoves him onto the sofa where Pete lands on his back with a thud. Before he knows what is happening Rick hoists his legs up and begins using the tips of his fingers to probe the sensitive opening to Pete's smooth round butthole. Rick shifts his position so that he is in position to observe Pete's reaction to every move he makes. Then, slowly, carefully, he sinks a spit-slickened finger into the steamy depths of his little brother's hole. Pete whimpers and his breath grows shallow as he feels his brother's fat digit invading him. Rick adds a second finger and begins a slow in-and-out, each time pushing deeply and firmly, causing Pete to arch his back and groan audibly with each thrust. Pete can feel Rick's eyes on him, and somehow this only makes the sensation hotter until the boy is squirming around in a near frenzy of anguished delight. Rick leans in close to the writhing youth. "Come on, Petey boy. I know it feels good. Tell me." "It feels awesome," gasps Pete. "You're fucking right it does," says Rick with a little laugh. "Who knows better than me how to make you feel good? You have to admit we used to have some really hot times up here." "Yeah, I guess." "What do you mean you guess? Have you forgotten how I could make you come just by feeding you my cock or finger-fucking you?" "Jeez, Rick, I don't know. That was a long time ago." "You expect me to believe that? Well, maybe you don't recall that stuff but I sure as heck do. Fuck, we had some wild times, and half the time you were the teacher and I was the student. You showed me how a guy could do things with another guy that were just as hot as anything a guy could do with a girl. And sometimes even fucking hotter. And then just as things were really starting to heat up, you cut and ran, buddy boy. Disappeared. Went AWOL. Stopped coming around without so much as a see-ya-later. What happened to you, little brother?" Almost as if some invisible switch has been tripped, Pete starts stiffening up and pulling away. He pushes Rick's fingers away and attempts to disengage from him. "Slow down, Pete. What's wrong? Hey, talk to me, man." "Nothing's wrong," says Pete who awkwardly pushes himself up into a sitting position on the sofa, and then tries to stand up, but is prevented from doing so by his brother. "Get off of me, Rick. Jeez, I can't believe I almost let you drag me back into this stuff again." Rick has extended his arm across his brother's chest, blocking him from standing up. "Hold on. You didn't think this 'stuff' was so bad a minute ago, and do I need to remind you who got this 'stuff' started in the first place? Why are you getting so high and mighty?" "Move your hand, Rick," says Pete who struggles to remove it himself, but is no match for his brother's superior arm strength. "Not so fast, little brother. What's with the attitude? Were you playing me? Is that what this was: just some sort of game? Did you really change your mind just now . . . or was that the plan all along? You know: Throw ol' Rick a bone and then cut out? Get me all worked up for nothing? Is this you idea of payback for your little boy toys?" Pete grimaces and glares at his brother. "Who's the paranoid one now? I don't know what you're talking about." "Sorry, little bro," says Rick who suddenly looks very contrite. "I didn't mean to come at you like that. I just got a little carried away. So talk to me. What's going on with you? We were just starting to relive some of the good times and the next thing I know you're freaking out." "Nothing's going on." "Who do you think you're talking to, Pete? I've always been able to see right through you. Fuck, boy, you have got to be the worst damn liar in the world. Everything is written on your face. You're hiding something and I am going to find what it is. So you might as well tell me. Hey, this is your ol' bro. I'm the one you've always told everything to—remember?' "Fuck off, Rick!" "Well, now, I know something's up—when you say 'fuck.' Out with it, little brother. Look, I can tell you're dying to tell me. Just spit it out already." "Shut up! Just shut up, you big fatheaded bully!" yelps Pete, on the verge of tears. He pushes past Rick and jumps to his feet. "You're not my father!" Rick stares at him dumbfounded. "Never said I was." "He caught me, Rick." Pete goes quiet, suddenly aware that he has just said more than he intended to. He stands stock still in the middle of the floor, suppressing tears and a sudden bout of hiccups, and doing his best to avoid Rick's probing eyes that are bearing down on him like a pair of twin lasers. "Who caught you?" "Since you remember everything," says Pete, tentatively, "do you remember how really stupid we were back then, how we started taking all kinds of crazy chances, just to see what we could get away with? The first time we did it was in the park, near the playground, behind some trees. Then we did it in the library, in one of those study carrels. And we even did it downstairs in the garage—you actually fucking me in your car in broad daylight." "Hell, yeah, I remember," says Rick with a smug grin. "We damn near got caught in the act a couple of times, but what a rush! Don't pretend you didn't enjoy that." "I'm not. It was an incredible rush. Now I get why you do the totally crazy things you do. It's downright addictive. But it was still stupid, Rick." "So what did you get caught doing, bro?" "I got caught sneaking back into the house late one night after I had been up here with you." "Fuck, I knew it!" exclaims Rick, punching the air with his fists. "I knew it had to be something like that. OK, what happened?" "You recall how I was regularly sneaking out a couple of times a week to come up here, and then would sneak back a few hours later? Well, one night as I was coming in through the kitchen, I found Dad sitting there at the table, waiting for me. I tried to make up something about going out to meet a friend, but Dad wasn't buying any of it. He could tell I'd been fucking with somebody and he wanted to know who." "So what did you tell him?" "Nothing. I clammed up. When I refused to tell him anything he pretty much went ballistic, shouting and waving his arms. I never saw Dad like that before." "So what did he do?" "Pretty much grounded me like forever," says Pete resignedly. Despite the harrowing memory, the boy still manages a rueful smile. "He was convinced I was acting up to spite him and trying to sabotage his upcoming marriage, so he banned me from even coming to the wedding. After that he started watching me like a hawk. I couldn't go anywhere or do anything without checking in with him first. He wanted to know where I was at all times. It felt a lot like prison." "Sounds like it." "After a few months he lightened up, but by then he had enrolled me in a bunch of activities just to keep me busy. A year later, it still doesn't feel like he trusts me." "You don't have to tell me what a real hardass Dad can be. Believe me, I know," says Rick eyeing his brother sympathetically and leaning back on the sofa. "But that doesn't explain why you, little brother, didn't tell me what was going on." "You're a wild card, Rick," says Pete, plopping down in one of the old chairs near the sofa. "I was afraid you might do something that would've made matters a whole lot worse." Rick lets out a hearty laugh and takes a swig of his beer. "Yeah, I might have at that. Sometimes, even I don't even know what I'm gonna do until after I've done it. One thing's for certain though: whatever I do, you can bet I'm going have a hell of a good time doing it." With the seamless grace of a panther Rick stretches his long arms across the locker to grab Pete, scoop him up, and deposit him back onto the sofa next to him. Pete is so taken off guard by this maneuver that he doesn't even bother to object; he doesn't, that is, until he begins to feel Rick's warm hands roaming across his naked body again. "Rick, hold on. Stop! We can't risk it. Dad would—" "What?" says Rick with a wily smile. "Send us to our rooms? Enroll us in soccer?" Far from being deterred by Pete's resistance, Rick actually seems turned up by it and begins to climb over his young brother's slender body. Pete wrestles him and finally wriggles free of his brother's grabby hands and tumbles onto the carpeted floor. Rick peers down at him and laughs, and Pete does too, suddenly embarrassed by the silliness of the situation. "I don't want to do that anymore, Rick," says Pete, pulling himself up into a sitting position on the floor. "I might believe that, little brother, if you hadn't got hard the second I touched you." Pete knows it's true. Even without looking, he can feel his cock straining between his thighs, solid as a rock, flush with desire for his brother. This time when Rick reaches down and strokes him, Pete offers no resistance and climbs back up onto the sofa. That Rick really does know him and how to manipulate him is patently obvious by the confident, almost smug look now spread across the college man's face. The boy realizes that one reason he has avoided his big brother all these months has been the certain knowledge that Rick would see his lust and use it to get close to him again. "Admit it: You're still worried about Dad finding out, aren't ya?" whispers Rick as he as he slowly pumps Pete's achingly hard cock. "Yeah." "It's time for you to get him out of your head, little brother. You've always been Daddy's good little boy, doing just what you were told, and what did it get you? You're eighteen now, heading off to college in a few months. There's a whole world of things for you to enjoy out there, but not if you're still going to be worried about what Dad thinks." It's clear Rick's little speech has had its intended effect when this time it's Pete, not Rick, who initiates the kiss. Showing a newfound confidence, Pete leans into his older brother's body and covers his mouth with his own. Rick is happy to return the kiss, hooking his hand behind Pete's neck, pulling him close, and then opening his mouth and devouring the willing boy with his wet sloppy tongue. With the temperature level between them rising, Rick groans and drags the kid's warm mouth down to his erect nipples where he shoves first one and then the other into his brother's open maw. "Come on, Pete. Suck my nips. You know how." As Pete clamps down on his sensitive tits, Rick sighs a smile, because he can already tell that Pete remembers exactly how he likes it. Pete scraps his teeth across Rick's broad dark areolae, and then digs in and bites, chews and chomps until Rick is forced to squirm and cry out from the sweet agony of it all. With this as in all things, Rick has never been one to experience anything half-way. If someone is going to suck his tits, he wants them red and raw with feeling. "Oh shit, Pete, you do that better than anyone. I tried to show my girl how to do it, but she's a hopeless wimp. Nobody does it like you, Pete. Pete—Sweet Pete—you don't know how much I missed you, boy. . . . You miss me?" Pete glances up at Rick, giving him almost a pleading look, before unexpectedly lowering his mouth down onto Rick's thick juicy cock. Though jutting out prominently from his hairy pubes, the young man's shaft is still not completely hard and Pete gets busy making it that way. Rick bites his lip and catches his breath, noting once again how really good his little brother has become at this. Pete rounds out his effective sucking action by cupping and fondling Rick's big hairy balls. Rick leans back a bit, opens his legs wider to give the kid even greater access to his groin, and then is further caught off guard when the adventurous boy abruptly slides his finger along the tender perineum underneath the heavy sac, and then begins to probe his brother's wide exposed asshole. "Hey now, bro! Whatcha doing?" gasps Rick who jerks and squirms when he feels Pete's soft slender fingers on his bunghole. He moves to push the hand away, but Pete in turn slaps his hand away. "Something a little different . . ." says Pete momentarily pulling of his brother's tasty cock, and flashing Rick the same wolf-like grin Rick so regularly leers at him. "What's the matter, Rick? I thought you liked trying new stuff." "Watch it, fucker," says Rick warily, once again opening his legs and leaning back. "Go easy down there." But Pete has no intention of going easy. He once again pounces on Rick's dick, drinking down the thick streams of pre-cum oozing out of the head, and lustily swallowing the entire rod down his nimble throat. Rick purrs and leans back further on the sofa, surrendering both his pulsing mancock and his hairy manhole to his eager brother's sexplay. As much as he hates to admit it, a good blowjob is made to feel even better when someone is probing around inside your tingling asshole. Rick sighs and groans. Once again, his nerdy little brother has shown him something new and fun to do with sex. Rick feels a sudden shock when Pete reaches up and pinches one of his nipples. Thus caught in the grip of his brother's expert ministrations, Rick realizes too late he is sliding over a cliff. Rick bucks and whines when the shock going through his body becomes a wave. He grabs Pete's head, fucks hard into his mouth, and releases the first fiery shot of cum down his brother's throat. That initial volley only pushes him deeper into his orgasm, and the second cum-blast is even bigger, harder, more overpowering than the first. Still twisting and turning and groaning, still clutching Pete's head tightly to his cock and still caught up in the throes of an unexpectedly fierce climax, Rick goes on blasting and blowing until the last of his load dribbles out and allows him to finally collapse onto the creaking sofa. "You sneaky little bastard," chuckles Rick still stretched out on the sofa and breathless as Pete lifts off his cock, and settles down onto the carpet, smiling triumphantly and licking his lips because he has managed to swallow almost every drop of his brother's massive load. "Seriously though, next time give your ol' bro some warning before doing that—will ya? Wasn't planning on coming so soon. I have to hand it to you, little brother. You still have one hell of a talented mouth. My girlfriend's pretty good, but you're even better. What is it about gay guys and blow jobs? A girl can drive you crazy with her pussy. But when it comes to the oral stuff, they can't hold a candle to you guys." As Rick recovers on the sofa, Pete reclines on the floor, gathering his own breath. "You know, I think I'm starting to have a problem with Jan," he confesses after a while. "A couple of times lately, she's come in on me in the shower. And the last time she just stood there gawking until I told her to get out." Rick Tells Pete "Sounds like the girl likes you, Petey boy." Pete cringes. "Well, I don't like her! Not like that. And I don't want her liking me . . . either. She's practically my sister, dude." "You do know you're not actually related to them—right?" "You know what I mean. I don't want any girl liking me like that," adds Pete. "Gay or not, you're not going to be able to stop some girl from liking you, bro. That's something I've never been able to figure out about you gay guys. I mean, sure, you like dudes—I get that. But when a nice piece of female tail just falls into your lap—I mean, how do you pass that up?" "Focus, Rick. Remember who we're talking about: Jan." "Oh yeah," says Rick, sitting up and reaching for his beer, "that one's a psycho. Crazy as a loon. Stay away from her." He takes a deep swig of his beer. "Not even I would go near that nut case. But her sisters on the other hand, that's a whole different story. Mindy's kinda cute, but the one that gets my blood to flowing is the little princess, Rachel. What a sweet little piece I bet that would be. I wonder if you get a sugar high after eating her." "Dude, you are totally sick," laughs Pete. All of this sex talk is starting to have a telling effect on Rick. His cock, completely limp only minutes ago has started regenerating itself. As the collegian continues to use one hand to imbibe his beer, he drops the other into his lap where he begins to fiddle with and grope his slowly lengthening rod. "Sorry to hear Dad came down so hard on you last year," says Rick, playfully nudging his younger brother with his foot. "Really, you should've come to me. I know a thing or two about handling Dad when he's in his self-righteous overload." "Sure, Rick." "But don't get me wrong, I'm not sorry at all we started messing around together or that you turned me on to man-to-man sex. I hadn't even seriously considered it, but once we started getting into it, it was like discovering a whole new sport right under my nose. Like, for instance, you wouldn't believe how many jocks are into it. And some coaches, too. Did I ever tell you how I fucked this guy once—turned out to be an assistant coach—one night in the showers after practice?" Pete sighs and shakes his head, but doesn't attempt to say anything because Rick has leaned over the edge of the sofa and begun to slowly massage the boy's slender shoulders. Despite having large athletic hands, Rick shows he really knows how to use them, and Pete immediately begins to respond to the soft sensual touch. His breathing begins to deepen and he finds himself pushing back against the gentle but probing manipulation of the warm fingers. "It's been a long time since we did it, Pete," continues Rick. "I've learned a few things since then. I bet that now I could teach you a few new tricks." Rick pushes his hands lower, following the natural curve of Pete's back, allowing his finger tips to play across and caress the tingling muscles and the sensitive skin, just as the young man drops his goateed chin onto his young brother's smooth shoulder. Rick's breath is warm and moist as he whispers into Pete's ear. "Missed you, bro." The college man tightens his grip on Pete's hips and lifts the boy up from the floor and onto the sofa next to him. Pete whimpers slightly and leans into his brother, driven as much by the ambient warmth of Rick's muscular body as by the hot blood now surging through his own body. Pete closes his hand around Rick's feverish shaft as he closes his lips over his hunky brother's sexy mouth. Pete drinks in the taste of his big brother, that distinctive mix of sweet and sour that is now like an intoxicating fire water to him. Pete clings to his brother's simmering body even after the kiss has ended, muttering the only thought burning in his brain. "Fuck me, Rick." A wide lascivious grin spreads across Rick's mouth. "Sure, Petey boy. Anything you say." Rick shifts his weight on the sofa and pushes Pete flat. Once again he lifts the boy's long legs, giving him complete access to the smooth rounded asscheeks and the puckered hole lurking there. This time, though, instead of merely finger-fucking him, Rick lowers his head, extends his tongue and licks the tender boyhole laid out before him. Pete shivers and groans, as much from the shock of feeling Rick rim him as from the sensation itself. Though Rick had often bragged of his expertise at eating female pussy, he had not once come close to using his mouth on Pete's butt before. As if to prove his newfound oral skills, Rick edges forward and briefly suckles his young brother's rock-hard cock before returning to his original target, the boy's bunghole. Though Rick is obviously no match for him as a cocksucker, that hardly matters to Pete who is so turned on by the feel of Rick's slick tongue on his cock and in his ass that his moans and murmurings are becoming louder by the minute. Glancing down, Pete sees that Rick is closely watching him, his intense dark eyes shining as he observes the effect he is having on his brother, the grin never leaving his face. "How's that feel, kid? Talk to me," says Rick momentarily lifting his head from the boy butt he has been eagerly devouring. "Amazing," Pete manages to say in-between bated breaths, his entire body starting to twist and heave in the grasp of his brother. He continues to marvel at the sight of Rick darting his steamy tongue in and out of his hungry hole. Peering down Pete can see that Rick's long dark vein-laced cock is now bubbling over with pre-cum, and he longs to take it in his mouth again. "Please, Rick, let me taste your cock." "Thought you wanted to be fucked." "I do. Just let me suck it a little first." Rick rises up and brings his long thick beauty closer to Pete's mouth, the lusty grin still there. "Sure thing, little brother. Sweet Pete. Never could say no to you." He dangles the full length of his manly member just above the boy's head, using the tapered end to smear long strands of sticky-sweet syrup on Pete's lips and face. Pete anxiously licks up as much as he can; but then just as it seems Rick is about to stick the whole thing in his mouth, the college man pulls it away. "What's wrong?" asks Pete raising himself up on the sofa. "I don't know. You tell me. Is this what you really want?" "I said it was." "Yes, you did . . . after first saying you didn't think so." "Rick, what game is this?" "No game, little brother. I'm just a little confused." "About . . .?" "Here's the thing," says Rick edging closer to him. "I told you I missed you—twice—and you haven't said it once. Seems like you've got yourself a shiny new family and a shiny new boyfriend, so what do you need ol' Rick for? Just remember this: dudes come and go, but your bro is forever." "So you think I've replaced you?" "Have you?" "Nobody could ever replace you, Rick. You're one of a kind. And just in case you need to hear me to say it, I did miss you, big brother—a lot." "Now was that so hard?" croons Rick, grinning widely as he again brings his huge mandick up to Pete's lips and this time allows the boy to lick all around it. "Seems pretty darn hard to me," giggles Pete as he eagerly laps up the tasty pre-cum oozing out of his brother's piss slit. "Fucker," laughs Rick, enjoying the joke. "Let's see how many jokes you feel like making now." He wets his fingers and quickly slides two of them into Pete's ass, once again making the youth squirm and groan. Pete continues to lick and slobber on Rick's heavy rod for a little while longer, but finds it increasingly difficult to concentrate with his brother's rough digits plumbing his chute. Finally with his cock well coated in spit and pre-cum, Rick eases it away from Pete's mouth. Once again he shifts position and lifts his brother's legs, exposing the fine round ass to his view. Rick lays his swollen cock on top of the slender gap and slowly draws it across Pete's crack, playfully prodding it, barely pricking it open. But for Pete just the sensation of his brother's heated cock on that place is so electric it causes him to gasp and moan. He's almost forgotten how incredible Rick's cock is, and now he longs to have it fill him up again. "Rick, put it in. Don't you want to?" "Don't rush me, little bro. I've waited a solid year to get another shot at your sweet ass." Taking aim with his hooded poker, Rick teases open the kid's ass lips, and begins to penetrate with slow even pressure. Pete braces himself for the inevitable assault, remembering just how rough and impatient his big brother could be. If he did not gain easy entry, Rick would not hesitate to force himself inside. Pete learned to endure the discomfort, simply because in the end it was always worth it. Rough or not, no one could ever come close to fucking as good as Rick did. But this time, the roughness never comes. Using that same gentle pressure and easing the way with his fingers, Rick never forces his cock in. Pete can hardly believe this is the same brother who usually enjoys being physical and roughhousing, actually taking care not to hurt him. But inevitably the pain does come when Pete suddenly tenses up and cannot bring himself to relax. To his amazement, Rick withdraws rather than pressing on, and then in a deft move, the athletic young man flips his young brother onto his stomach and reenters the back way. "OK, who are you and what have you done with my brother?" jokes Pete over his shoulder. "Shut up," mutters Rick, pushing a little harder now, running his hands along the outer ridges of Pete's back, touching him, massaging him, and causing the boy to stretch, push back, and ultimately open up and accept the hefty fuckpole invading him. "Oh my God, Rick . . ." Pete chokes out as he feels Rick's monster dick sliding past his sphincter and penetrating the deep recesses of his body. With one last determined effort Rick fills him to the brim. Then groaning a sigh of satisfaction he lowers his muscular frame across his brother and allows himself to enjoy the explosion of pure sensation as his mighty fuckshaft is engulfed in the tight velvety furnace of his brother's ass. "Damnit, bro, that's nice. Don't let anyone ever tell you that you don't have one sweet boy cunt." The breath catches in Pete's throat as he feels Rick's cock start to come alive inside him. Though the first fuckstrokes are slow and gentle, even those are amazingly intense to Pete, who can feel every tingling inch of Rick's steely mancock moving inside him. Rick's thick body is like a heated blanket on Pete's back, but the heat seems to burn both ways as Rick feels Pete's ass muscles tightening around him and grasping his cock like a hot vise. Rick slowly ups the tempo of his fucking, pulling out a little farther and driving in a little deeper, fully aware that with every little shift of his pulsing cock he is sending an electric shiver to every part of the boy's body. Even in his haze of lust Pete can't help but see that his first impression was right. As good as he was before, Rick has become an even better fucker now. It is not by accident that Rick improved his fucking skills. When it came to women, he was always a natural, instinctively knowing just the right phrase or move to seduce practically any female he wanted. He was positively shocked to discover that his talent for sex did not readily translate to men. Young men of the sort that attracted Rick—glib, physical, good-looking young men—aren't the type likely to fall for a smooth-talker, but rather someone strong and assertive, and Rick had to learn an entirely new technique to approach them. But never one to shrink from a challenge, Rick kept at it, knowing that in the end the most important part of seduction isn't technique at all, but the price you're willing to pay to get what you want. Rick shifts his weight higher over his brother to give his dick even greater access to Pete's hole. Though his strokes are still measured and controlled, he gains greater power on the downstroke by raising his entire muscular frame up onto his long sculpted arms, and driving so much pure pleasure into Pete that the high schooler cannot help but emit an endless stream of cries and moans. "Feel that Pete? That's the feel your ol' bro's hot dick reaming your sweet boy ass." Rick continues to watch Pete like a hawk, fully aware of the effect he is having on him, and drawing much of his own pleasure from seeing the boy thrashing in his grip. "This is good, bro. Tell me. Tell me how it feels." But any effort by Pete to reply is snuffed out when Rick suddenly increases the ferocity of his fucking. This is the hard driving kind of penetration Pete remembers from a year ago when Rick would sometimes batter his boyhole into submission. The thing is Pete cannot resist the blistering storm of fuckstrokes that are being poured into him so deep that it feels like his entire chute is on fire. His head jerks and his grunts grow louder as he strains to open his butt to take even more of the punishment Rick's hot poker is giving him. When Rick snakes his hand around the front of Pete and pinches one his small sensitive tits, the boy jumps and calls out. "Shit," spits Rick when he realizes his younger brother is coming. Abruptly he pulls out and again flips the kid onto this back even as Pete is shuddering and moaning, jerking about and wildly shooting long lines of cum onto his arms and chest. "Didn't mean to trigger you off so soon, Pete. I guess I did to you what you did to me earlier." "Who cares," murmurs Pete, a satisfied intoxicated glow on his sweat-glazed face. "That felt fantastic." "Not done yet," insists Rick as he plows back in, quickly securing his cock in his brother's warm relaxed hole. "And if I know my little bro, you're not done yet either." "Oh God," gasps Pete at the jolt from Rick's reentry electrifies his body, making him as turned on as ever. "Keep going, Rick. It just feels too good to stop." Once again Rick uses the power of his steel-like arms and hips to drive a firestorm of fuckstrokes into Pete, pounding the boy's pleasure center over and over. Pete responds in kind, grabbing his brother, writhing in his grasp, and using his ass muscles to clutch and hold the massive ramrod filling him up. Rick has always loved this part of sex, the part where the controls are off, the point at which his partner is so consumed by cock-lust that he or she can deny him nothing. He loves the exquisite charge in his dick as it slices through a hot hungry hole. He loves the swishy sounds of wet bodies slapping together and colliding, and above all he loves the sweaty, musty, funky scent that fills his nose when he is careening toward a tremendous climax. "Getting close, kid. What about you?" Though Pete does not answer, Rick is still pleased by what he sees because he recognizes the slack, lust-driven look in the kid's eyes as a sign that he is close to blowing his rocks. As always, Rick has worn him out, left him punch-drunk and sweat-soaked by the pure physical exertion of his sex. "I knew you'd come crawling back one day," whispers Rick through heavy breaths. "Who knows you better than me?" Pete suddenly snaps to attention, bristling at the arrogance of Rick's words, and then with gritty determination he presses his palms over his big brother's large reddish brown areaolae, now sensitive with feeling. He clamps down on the erect nipples at the center and squeezes hard. "Ohhh, you fucking little devil—" chokes Rick at the realization of what Pete has done. As surely as if flicking a switch, Pete has turned the tables on his big stud of a brother and gone for his most sensitive, vulnerable spot, thereby once again sending him over the edge. No longer in control of the sex or even his own body's reaction, Rick shudders as if hit by an electric charge, and snarls as a sudden surge of heat rises in his groin. He plunges his cock as deep inside Pete as it will go and discharges a tremendous rifle-shot of cum directly into the boy's gut. That first, almost painful explosion in his loina is quickly followed by more, equally powerful explosions, and Pete, unprepared for the force of his brother's cum blasts, is suddenly caught up in the quivering, quaking movements. Like a chain reaction, Pete can feel the heat coursing out of Rick and into him, and almost involuntarily he tenses and begins shooting off his own cum-load in a series of long thin ribbons stringing across his belly. At first Rick is too shell-shocked by his own expolsion to realize that Pete is coming too. But when he does regain his senses and sees it, he exults and laughs, even when still struggling to gain control of his own body. "Look at you, blowing a big one, little bro. I knew you missed my cock." Rick slumps forward and drapes his weary body across the limp form of his brother. He seems oblivious to the oily slick of sweat and cum coating them both. For long minutes afterward, they lay in a soggy heap, slowly regaining their senses on the stained surface of the old sofa. Eventually Rick rouses himself and heads for the tiny bathroom at the back end of the apartment. He pauses at the bathroom door, turns and calls out to Pete who remains stretched out motionless on the sofa. "Hey, move your ass, dude! You're stinking up my couch." "Jerk!" grins Pete, still lying on the sofa. "Peter!" Both boys freeze as a woman's voice, originating from the general vicinity of the steps outside, penetrates the room. When she calls again it is clear she is getting closer. "Peter, are you up there?" "Cripes, it's Mom!" exclaims Pete in a loud whisper to Rick. "What do we do?" "You get your tail over there and stop her. Sounds like she's half-way up the steps already." Pete scrambles over to the entrance only to freeze again when he discovers the door standing slightly ajar. Instantly he realizes it has been that way since Jeremy left; and when he points it out to Rick, they exchange twins looks of alarm, knowing that anyone in the yard below could quite possibly have heard everything they've been up to. "Peter?" "Mom . . . um, don't come up! Rick just finished his workout and he's running around naked up here." Rick stifles a laugh at the cleverness of his brother's all-too-true statement. He signals him a thumbs up. "Oh my!" says Mom sounding a bit flustered. "Well, it was you I was looking for anyway. Jan said you might be up here. Listen, dinner is ready and Flora is about to set the table. Come in and wash up." "OK, but would you mind if I hung out here a little longer? I've just about convinced Rick to come have dinner with us after he gets cleaned up." Though he doesn't look back, Pete can sense Rick bristling at the idea. The next thing he feels is a small cushion from the sofa smacking him in the back of the head. He looks over his shoulder and signals his brother to cut it out. "Do you really think Rick would come to dinner tonight?" Mom's voice fairly crackles with anticipation. "It's been months since he came and spent time with us. Well, certainly if you think you can get him to do it, please try. I'll tell Alice to hold off setting the table. Oh, the girls will be beside themselves with excitement. You know how they go on about their big brother. But be sure and tell the silly boy I expect him to show up with clothes on this time. The last time I saw him . . . well, he was practically naked. By the way, that game you guys were watching must have been quite the thriller. I could hear to you two yelling from across the yard." As Alice's footsteps fade away, Pete turns to face the wrath of his brother. "Say you prayers, dude. I'm going to kill you. Wake you up. And kill you again." "Did I do something wrong?" says Pete with mock concern as he dodges Rick who makes an attempt to grab him. "Why were naked around Mom?"